


Vês Zi̜kechkæ (A Conversation)

by scalematesays



Series: Zrilshar Kingdom [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dirkjake Week 2021 (Homestuck), Graphic depictions of swamp humidity, Hal is a demon, Kidnapping (kinda? in a flashback), M/M, Mentions of Violence, Pirates, Shipwreck, kingdom au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28794078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scalematesays/pseuds/scalematesays
Summary: Somewhere in the swampy west of a coastal kingdom, a runaway and an ex-pirate get to know each other a bit better.This is a lengthy conversation in which Dirk is a man with strong ties to the royal family, and in which Jake is his guide and pseudo-boyfriend, though neither will admit the seriousness of their feelings for the other. Follow Jake through a series of flashbacks and a pesky internal monologue regarding where he stands with Dirk, and enjoy the debut of the Zrilshar Kingdom series!
Relationships: Jake English/Dirk Strider
Series: Zrilshar Kingdom [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2111091
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17
Collections: DirkJake Big Bang 2k21





	Vês Zi̜kechkæ (A Conversation)

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank my friend Kitty for teaming up with me to make this happen, everyone who beta read for me, as well as the lovely @artsicfox for the official art, and the DirkJake Week 2021 team! As a disclaimer on the conlang used in this series, the language of Zri̜pwi is a language custom-built by me using the vulgarlang site's pro version. Please drop a comment or kudos if you enjoy this!

Though it was night, the air was humid and thick, sticking to his skin like a thin film. The swamplands of the southwest had never been Jake English’s favorite place, and it was less so now as he lay in the rickety bed, practically soaked through with the moisture that pervaded every breath, every irritable motion, every waking thought. Sleep was nothing more now than a distant hope -- a desire just out of reach that wore at his aching muscles from days of nonstop travel half on horseback, half not. 

If not for their location, Jake might have half a mind to storm his way down to the front desk and demand a different room on the cooler side of the inn, the little money they had left be damned. But there was no cooler side here where the small town lay, enveloped by swamp trees and boggy ground that had long-since forced the villagers to build their homes on stilts. Even now, as he cracked open his eyes to stare at the wall for what seemed to be the hundredth time, he still had a nagging desire to ask anyway. But risking being kicked out for raising a disturbance wasn’t worth it. He and his companion had long-since decided that it was far better to spend the night in a stuffy inn relatively free from insects than it was to set up camp outside and be sucked clean dry by the vile, flying swamp beasts that buzzed and hummed all through the night. 

Yet this was insufferable, even with the thread-bare blankets on his side of the bed thrown off, leaving his body bare save for the shorts and thin nightshirt that clung to his body tighter than a snake to its prey. Instinct told Jake that it would be at least a tad bit cooler outside, that perhaps if he pried open the window, the tiniest breeze would find its way in. Logic, however, told him that it had been just as stifling outside when they’d sought refuge. 

This was bullshit.

A low, frustrated groan emanated from the man as he flipped onto his back, arms and legs splayed out on the bed. With the slightest turn of his head, green eyes found themselves focusing on the back of the man sitting in the same room, his shoulders hunched and his head down as he no-doubt stared at whatever he had sprawled out on the tiny desk the room came with. With just that glance, Jake’s gaze softened and his furrowed brows eased slightly. Dirk was planted in the chair, his form glowing and his shadow cast onto the opposite wall due to the warm amber glow of the lanturn. It was dim enough to not intrude upon Jake’s sleep, even if such a thing were attainable -- which, at this point, he was beginning to think wouldn’t be possible no matter how long he lay with his eyes squeezed shut. The world was fuzzy, as his glasses had been set aside on the nightstand, but Jake could still make out the tell-tale colors and shapes that made up the man he’d been traveling with for some time now.

“As contentious as I know this question to be, don’t you think you should endeavor to get some shut-eye by dawn?” Jake asked, still observing the other’s blurred form. He didn’t expect a real answer, or even one at all, now that he thought about it; Dirk did get rather absorbed in his own world when he was trying to focus on something. As such, he was filled with a dull sense of surprise when the other spoke.

“And end up more sweaty than a frog is coated in mucus? No thanks.” His tone was simple, sharp, his words carefully chosen. Jake knew that the man rarely said anything without running it through his own head a few times. It was how he’d managed so long on his own despite having a hefty price on his head. After all, it wasn’t every day that a teenager with ties to the royal family abandoned his life for the wide world beyond the gates, and it was rarer still for one to keep himself out of trouble for long enough to get to this point. “I’m fine sitting here, where I have plenty of personal space to prevent my ass from getting thoroughly coated in a zesty marinade of swamp juice.”

“Well,” he responded with a slight hum, “what if we end up having to engage in a good ol’ fisticuffs match with mysterious brigands? I heartell there are a lot of villains to clobber along this route! If you’re trapped in the infernal grasp of sleeplessness, how will you stay on your guard?”

There was a moment in which neither of them spoke after that, though Jake wasn’t fooled into hoping that Dirk would be reasonable and succumb to the not-so-inviting bed. Eventually, the other sighed and spoke again, never lifting his head from whatever he was occupied with. “Hal will take care of it.”

Ah. Right. No matter how many months it had been, Jake wasn’t sure he would ever get used to their supernatural guardian-of-sorts. Half the time he didn’t travel with them, but rather scoured the landscape for any items of interest and vile enemies to dispatch -- much to Dirk’s relief, it seemed. The two certainly didn’t get along, despite their same likeness, and Jake found the question he’d always wanted to ask burning at his tongue. Seeing as how it was unlikely either of them would get any sleep this night, Jake turned to fumble for his gold-rimmed glasses before sitting up, attentive to the answer to the question he was about to ask.

“How did you two get acquainted?”

This time, Jake could see Dirk’s shoulders tense. A sensitive question, he’d presumed accurately, giving him all the validation he was owed by having refused to ask the question until now. After all, it certainly wasn’t every day that one came across a man with a smug creature that looked so similar. As nosy as it was, Jake was eager to know the story of the man he’d come to care for. 

“I found him,” Dirk began, “behind a sand dune in the desert. It was near Azmar, the oasis city, but still a good few dozen miles straight southeast into the hot ass sand. To keep shit simple, I was thirsty as hell, and I happened to spot one of those sealed pots -- the ones people use to hold liquid. Because Azmar was so close, I figured some dumb schmuck had dropped it or lost it not too long ago, since it was sticking half out of the sand. Maybe during a sandstorm, y’know? Kinda hard to go back for shit in those. What you lose in a sandstorm is just gone as far as I’m concerned.”

Jake gave a quiet murmur of agreement at that. Though he’d only seen sandstorms on the horizon during their travels, what few glimpses he’d managed to snatch hadn’t exactly filled the man with the desire to end up caught in one; there was a reason Dirk had tried to plan their route through the more arid parts of their meandering journey around the wind patterns. 

“Anyway. I decided ‘finders-keepers,’ and tried to pop the bitch open. Like I said, it was one of the sealed ones, and it was heavy as all fuck, so I figured it had to be at least half-full of something. I wanted it to be water, but if it was money or some shit, I could at least manage to get Seb to drag it behind us until we got to the city so I could afford some food and a place to sleep. So, like a dumbass, I took my sword and started trying to dig it into the seal.” Now, Dirk was beginning to lean back against his chair, his head falling back slightly. Jake cherished the glimpse he got of tawny skin seeming to glow in the lantern light. “What happened next was nigh-instantaneous regret. You always think shit like that is fake, stories told by superstitious people who live in fear of whenever a black cat comes rubbing up on their legs. But I think I about pissed myself when a black cloud came out with two glowing red coals for eyes.”

Honestly, from what it sounded like, Jake was pretty sure he would _definitely_ have pissed himself had it been him. He sat silent as Dirk finished the story, though he knew enough to account for more than half a year’s time. With one hand reaching up to push coarse bangs from his forehead, Dirk continued. “It took less than five seconds for him to assume the form he’s been dead-set on keeping ever-since, and for some reason he decided that my freeing him earned me a lifetime of torment rather than the typical sweet, maternal embrace of the netherworld he would usually grant to those who did him a favor.”

“Kind of like a genie, then,” he joked with a grin that was all too natural to his features. “You’re one lucky son of a bitch, befriending magical, nefarious apparitions.”

“I think if he heard you compare him to a genie, he’d try to find a way to quite literally make you eat those words. He’s sensitive,” the other man quipped back with a snort. “I don’t know why he insists upon following me around and being generally insufferable, but I have to admit, he does prove useful from time to time.”

That was an understatement. Hal was almost always there to fish them out of trouble when they were in too deep to dig themselves out of it -- like that time there had been an ambush along a narrow mountain pass. As skilled in combat they both were, Dirk from his fancy castle training and Jake from his years aboard a pirate ship, it was difficult to fight back when trapped between enemies with barely enough room to put their feet. It didn’t take a genius to be thoroughly convinced that the only reason they’d been able to escape with their lives had been because their demonic companion had been close enough to come to the rescue. Though, when Jake had tried to thank him, he had shrugged it off with the retort that it had taken him more energy to get back to them in time than it had to “take care” of the problem. 

“What about you?” The question aimed at Jake was a surprise, and it jolted him out of his musings like a shock directly to his nervous system. Now that he was paying attention, Jake saw that Dirk had swiveled slightly, piercing eyes now locked on his face as the man raised a dark eyebrow to prompt him to speak. “Why were you on a ship full of pirates, dude? It doesn’t seem much your style, if I’m being straight with you.”

For a moment, he was quiet, though not because he had little to say -- rather, because with Dirk looking at him like that, it reminded Jake of another pair of eyes that had been all too eager to stare into his soul and pick him apart until he felt small, even defenseless in the vast breadth of another ego. 

_“Did you ignore everything I just said in the past ten minutes, or are you just fucking stupid?” The woman sneered, her hand reaching out to grasp a grown man by the collar to drag him closer until their faces were inches apart. She was shorter, just by a margin, but with the look on her face, she seemed to be entirely unaware of the advantage the man had on her. Either that, or she didn’t care. With her eye ablaze -- for even from here, Jake could see the strap of an eyepatch snaking around her head -- the woman’s lip curled in disgust before she was shoving the ragged-looking man aside with seemingly no effort at all. “Give me the damn shovel, I’ll find it myself. Useless sacks of shit.”_

_From where he hid amongst the undergrowth of his jungle home, Jake could see them all gathered on the beach, spread out like crumbs cast from a hand. He could see their ship as well, imposing with its masts, flags, and canons. Though he knew that he should be struck with some feeling of fear upon seeing the cruel curves of swords at the belts of those gathered, he couldn’t help but to feel more awe than apprehension._

_These were real pirates! He’d always heard stories, tales of caution from both his deceased grandmother as well as the townspeople, but he’d never seen a real one before. From the way the woman with wild hair stomped around and kicked at sand, examining a roll of parchment in one hand, Jake was almost certain she was the leader. The more orders she barked to her crewmates, the more excited he got -- inching forward with wide, excited eyes until he dared go no further for fear of becoming visible to those on the shore. No matter how thrilled he was to see real pirates, Jake wasn’t silly enough to blow his cover. They would surely take out their weapons and-_

_“Mom! I found something over here you might be interested in!” As soon as Jake heard the voice from behind him, his blood ran cold in his veins despite the burning sun overhead. The next thing he knew, there was a rough hand in his hair, wrenching him out of the undergrowth and throwing him onto his face in the sand. “I found him watching. He was probably planning to run back to the village and tell people we were here!”_

_“No! No, I wasn’t-” he managed out as he tried to scramble to his feet, only for the same person who’d shoved him to the ground to hook their foot around one of his to send him tumbling yet again. Jake gave a choked cry as a heavy boot pressed against his shoulder-blades, desperately trying to crane his neck to see anything but the expanse of sand._

_Footsteps were coming toward them, slow and steady, and Jake managed to get his face out of the sand just in time to see two boots stop only a mere few inches from him. A deep, intense apprehension sank into his stomach like a stone, and Jake intentionally did not look up. Only after a rough bark of “Let him up!” did the teen attempt once more to wrench himself from the clinging claws of the sand, looking perhaps more spooked even than a deer in the face of a strange noise._

_He’d barely had time to rise and get a quick glimpse at the woman in front of him before hot, hard metal gripped his jaw, forcing him to meet the icy stare directed his way. Jake began to stammer as much as he could with the painful sting of overheated steel. With a downward cast of his eyes, he managed to spot a glove clutched in her other hand, as though she’d just taken it off -- but then she gripped his jaw harder and Jake was forced, again, to look up._

_“I don’t think so. He’s just a spineless coward of a child, Vriska. He wouldn’t tell a soul.” she stated coolly before turning her head to snap at the rest of her crew. “What the hell are you all standing around for? How many useless men does it take to find the next clue? If we don’t get to the cave we’re looking for by sunset, I’m making all of you scrape barnacles off my damn ship!”_

_“Cave?” Jake asked as the other members of the crew began their poking and prodding at the beach dunes, the word distorted by how tightly she was still gripping his face._

_This time, real fear struck him like a bolt of lightning as her head whipped back toward him, her expression of interest sending shivers down his spine. This time when she spoke, her words were less like ice. “Oh, I’m sure there must be many on this silly little island. But yes. We_ are, _in fact, looking for a cave. You wouldn’t happen to know where one might find a cave where a meteorite landed, would you? It’s fabled to look out upon the ocean, but to somehow be unable to spot from a ship.”_

_A meteorite. Hm. Jake wasn’t sure he knew of one of those, but he did know of a cave with a hole in the stone ceiling and a spot where one could just make out the sea from a crack in the far wall. Maybe… Jake thought he knew that place!_

_“Sakes alive, I can take you to where it might be!” he answered after a moment of mulling it over. Something about the way she spoke to him made him want to help. Surely she couldn’t be all bad -- she wasn’t like the pirates from the stories who came storming onto a beach to harm villagers, or else she would have hurt him. “I’m- I’m not sure exactly, but it, ah, probably beats twiddling your thumbs here.”_

_For a few heartbeats, there was silence. Then, a wide grin spread across the woman’s face and she released him, patting his face in an almost tender way with that prosthetic hand. “Perhaps you’re of use to me after all. You may call me Marquise or Captain. Welcome aboard, new guy. Now show me where it is.”_

_“Jake. That’s my name. Er… Captain.” Had he really just been recruited? The teen reached up to rub at the back of his head nervously, turning to begin leading the captain into the undergrowth he’d been taking refuge in prior. But as he pushed past the girl who had pinned him mere moments prior -- Vriska, he thought -- Jake shuddered beneath her intense glare._

_Something told him that she wanted him dead._

“If I’m being rather forthcoming, I didn’t really have much of a choice!” Jake explained with a nervous chuckle. He couldn’t have said no to Marquise if he’d wanted to. “I think I ended up botching more jobs than being helpful in the end, but _cheese and crackers,_ was it fun! Being a pirate, going on adventures, why, I felt like a feisty youngster with that crew long after adulthood caught up with me.”

“The way you’re talking, it’s starting to sound like you got fucking kidnapped, Jake.” This was said after a brief pause, and Jake suddenly found that his face was much warmer than it had been a moment before. Of course he hadn’t been kidnapped! That was ridiculous.

Momentarily, Jake ran a scarred hand through his hair, slick with his own sweat. The air was still thick with moisture, but he found that somehow, talking with Dirk had taken his mind off it -- at least enough to make it bearable. “Just… hold your horses there. Do you recall the admittedly-lackluster story of my grandmother?” he asked, continuing only after a hummed response of affirmation. “After she died, my days of carefree adventures came to an end. I had to learn to collude with the village on the other side of the island from my grandmother’s hut, and that was, er… rather disconcerting, actually!

“It was always so… aggravating. Sharing basic pleasantries with them, trading anything I found for scraps of food, getting clobbered and practically mauled by creatures prowling on the island every time I needed to check the contraptions I’d set up for food. At least on the ship, as much of a doozy as the work could be sometimes, I wasn’t often worried about death!” Not with that crew, anyways. Jake had felt confident there, even after the death of the Captain. He had a place, somewhere he could belong, with work he was at least good at -- enough to have him kept around and not thrown overboard. He hadn’t felt that with the few villagers on his island. He would have always been an outcast there, and he knew it. “Besides, I had a blast with them! It’s exhilarating, being stranded in the sea with a monster tempest swirling overhead, threatening to tip the whole ship. But the Captain always got us out of as much trouble as she got us into.”

“Nobody took you in? I thought someone would have seen a lone kid walking around and at least done something decent and offered housing for a while.” Once again, the other glanced over his shoulder, showing in his ever-calculated way that he was interested and invested in the conversation despite the fact that his gaze was quick to return to the smudged, tiny lines on the map next to the lamp. 

That was, however, a difficult question for Jake. It wasn’t necessarily an easy one to answer if he wanted to be entirely truthful; after all, he could just say “No,” but if he did so, he would be shedding the townspeople in a rather poor light. And, truthfully speaking, Jake didn’t really want to do them any disservice. So, after a deep sigh and a wipe of his forehead with his forearm, Jake attempted to explain. “I suppose I should be a sport and try to give you an adequate run-down. My grandma wasn’t very chummy with a lot of the populace -- in fact, her relationship with most was quite deplorable! It isn’t much of a wonder when she was intense enough to scare the everfriggin tar out of even the most rambunctious scoundrel!”

Without really noticing, Jake’s feet had begun to drum up a slight beat against the wood floor as he continued. “Anyhoo, somewhere along the line it seems my grandma may have committed some indiscernible slight against the villagers, and they may or may not have jumped the gun and considered her a witch or somesuch nonsense. That’s a bunch of malarkey, there wasn’t a nefarious bone in her old body, but they had apparently been convinced. Since I was her spawn a bit down the line, it was sort of like I was some… omen, I think -- some harbinger of their doom, eager to pilfer from the homes items belonging to those of more respectable upbringing. Even the other kids who got into the most shenanigans would have less than nothing to do with me, which, if I _had_ been what they were all convinced I was, would probably be an act of sound judgement!” 

“Where was this, again? Which island?” 

“J́imufis. Why?” 

The only answer for a long few moments was a hum, its meaning impossible for Jake to discern. It didn’t seem like a noise of surprise, but then again, sometimes Dirk was nearly impossible to read. If he was being entirely truthful, it was often infuriating, having to guess and make stabs at the real meanings behind certain words and phrases. Half the time, the two were engaged in some sort of dance, seamless and beautiful despite how Jake wished for its end, the goal of which to prevent any real development of whatever it was the two of them had going on. 

Eventually, luckily, words came -- and when they did, Dirk spoke simply. “One of the small islands, directly west of the peninsula. Nondescript. I’ve never been, but someone I know has. The fish is good there, I’ve heard, and more cheap than sand on the mainland.” 

“By gum, I’ll be certain to give them your compliments if I ever have the displeasure of going back,” he joked in response, rising from the bed at last. His muscles ached, likely due to all the walking he’d had to do even before the humidity had settled in like a particularly sweaty hand to grip him tight. Jake crossed the floor, the rough wood providing no sense of cool relief against his soles. Within moments, he was standing beside Dirk, just a few inches behind the man’s chair, leaning curiously over to examine the worn map. 

A quill and bottle of ink lay at Dirk’s right hand, though Jake had heard no scratching of the former, and the bottle was still stopped. The glow from the lantern spread long shadows, casting Jake’s against the wall to their right, but leaving the map illuminated by flickering yellow-orange. For just a moment, green eyes settled on the way Dirk’s hair shone in the dim lighting, the shadows causing the illusion of strands dancing in an imaginary wind, the way the slight hook of Dirk’s nose looked even more alluring than usual in this lighting. But in order to not be caught staring, Jake was quick to cast his gaze back onto the map.

“What about you, mister? You’re from Ræjotwê, are there any decent folk there?” Ræjotwê was the seaside capital, translating roughly to “Tranquil,” and the place where the royal family had set up shop centuries before. Though Jake didn’t know much about Dirk’s past, he _did_ know that the other came from the capital, had ties of some sort to the royal family, and refused to go back under any circumstances. Jake was curious. “Come on, fess up! Does it live up to its name?”

His questions were met with a snort at first, but despite the tension that had crawled into Dirk’s shoulders upon the name of the capital city, he was quick to respond, leaning back in his chair to be able to make eye contact with Jake. Something in him was taken aback by the glow cast upon Dirk’s piercing eyes from the lantern, and he became distracted enough that he’d almost missed the beginning of the other’s sentence. “If by decent folk, you mean con artists who lure in unsuspecting tourists and rob them blind, then yes. The city is full to the brim with them.”

“Oh, phooey! You can’t pull a fast one on me, Dirk: if the place was like that, Marquise would have set up shop permanently.” Jake pointed out, puffing out his chest a bit and resting one hand on his hip. But despite this stance, a wide grin had made its way to his face, meant to encourage Dirk to talk.

Momentarily, the other regarded Jake with an expression that made it very clear that he wasn’t too keen on elaborating. It was a shame, too, because he had never been to Ræjotwê, and unless he wanted to go by himself sometime in the distant future -- which, for the record, Jake wasn’t too keen on -- he wanted to hear about it! Dirk was, after all, a native, and thus he should have a lot more quality information than most. After a staredown that felt like it had lasted for a solid five minutes, Dirk finally gave a groan before speaking up, much to Jake’s excitement.

“Fine. You win. Ræjotwê has a lot of history, if you give a shit about any of that. Some pretentious pricks do, and they go there just to see the monuments all over the place. Since the tiny-ass kingdom of Zrilshar was even smaller before Queen Rosa’s time, most academics consider what few cities and towns there are along the coastal mainland to be the most ‘genuine’ places to discover the so-called true culture of the kingdom like they’re looking for a new species of fish in a puddle two inches deep and six inches wide.” The other’s tone was a slow drawl, seeming both careless and precise as he set up the description. Jake was quick to glance at the desk for any amount of empty space to temporarily plant his ass while Dirk continued. “Basically, the city’s old as fuck. Most of it’s still made out of wood from the forests nearby and plain stone, but thanks to all the effort Queen Rosa put into unifying exploration teams about sixty years ago, we got lucky in the mountains up north and struck marble.”

As he spoke, Dirk leaned back slightly in his chair, tipping it back ever-so-slightly but still managing to maintain balance. “Ever since then, we’ve been floating all sorts of goodies from down under along the river and shipping them to the capital and to port. Downtown is full of buildings now that are made mostly of wood but are repaired with marble, and most of the castle has been redone in marble. Along the outer edges of the city are homes mostly made with wood and sandstone. They don’t fall apart and rot as quickly as the ones downtown, so they won’t be repaired or replaced with marble anytime soon. But most of those old buildings near the heart of the city have been in families for generations, and they’re worn, but painted and decorated with all sorts of symbols and scenes. There are fountains and statues everywhere, sides of streets overflowing with gardens. We have water that runs just under the streets, ensuring that no one throws waste out into the streets like in a lot of larger cities elsewhere.

“The marketplace is one of the best in the kingdom, same with the other two port towns. We get shit from all over, but since we’re the capital, ambassadors and royals from other kingdoms sometimes bring whole ships of items to trade. The spices, Jake -- have you ever had saffron?” Dirk asked, quirking a brow and obviously waiting for a response. Jake had not had saffron, and shook his head. “That shit sells for _thousands._ I remember, I had to be maybe eight or nine, the queen took me along with her family and she caught me staring at the piles and piles of spices of all different colors, and she bought me a cinnamon stick to chew on.” 

This was surprising to Jake. He tried not to let it show, since he didn’t want Dirk to catch on and start guarding his words again. This had been the first time Dirk had ever directly mentioned the royal family in a positive tone, and certainly the first time he’d ever singled out a specific memory that contained one of them with a willingness to share it with Jake. “She sounds sweeter than candy if she really did that for you.”

“Yeah. Romina was always too nice for her own good, if you ask me. Even when Karkat ended up spouting some vulgar shit to an official no one liked, she wouldn’t get that pissed, much less when she caught Nepeta climbing in through a window long after curfew.” He shrugged, eyes no longer fixated on Jake. Instead, Dirk was looking up at the ceiling, though Jake was almost certain that he wasn’t actually looking _at_ it, but rather _through_ it. “I spent a lot of time around the king and her when I was a kid. The king used to play-fight with us when we were about chest-height -- Dave and I. We thought we were doing some real damage with our shitty wooden swords, but in retrospect he always just let us win and tried to shield his face from the wrath of eleven-year-olds who had way too much time on their hands and way too much of an interest in tactical warfare.”

That got a laugh out of Jake, though he’d tried to stifle it. “I can just imagine the poor bastard, doomed to be pounced on by two dastardly kids imagining they’re comrades in arms!”

“Dave may or may not have given him a black eye once. I was just mad I couldn’t get a proper hit in on the other one.” There was an equal amount of amusement in Dirk’s tone despite the lack of outward laughter. Jake found that charming in a way: how full of expression Dirk’s voice could be despite the way he frequently maintained a calm exterior. Once you knew the man well enough, you could begin to parse what he was feeling based on the way he said things. 

Despite how long he’d spent with Dirk at this point, after days and days of exploration, there were always new things about him to discover. Jake often thought he was pretty straight-forward; he was just a man from a little island, an ex-pirate who joined up with Dirk quite recently. There wasn’t much of interest about him, not in comparison to the layers of complexity that the man before him had cordoned off behind a cool facade. At first Jake had thought he was a mercenary, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Dirk gave little information about himself, but with each new morsel Jake had managed to pry from him, the sheer intensity associated with Dirk became even more glaringly obvious. 

There was no mystery to him, no clues lying about that were always there for Jake to piece together with his own wit -- there was only a puzzle that contained a thousand intricate parts, and Dirk doled them out sparingly, challengingly, as though daring Jake to figure him out.

So, he took the chance.

“If you don’t mind me asking, my good chum, why did you leave? Frolicking with royalty, getting up to hijinks at marketplaces, it all sounds like you had a hunky dory life with the way you’re laying it out! I must say, the motive seems inscrutable.”

Interestingly enough, Dirk took very little time to muse over the question. Had he been expecting it? But the other’s eyes were on him again, his chair falling forward soundly from the tipped-back position it had been in for the past few moments. “Damn, you’re not pulling any punches today, are you? What is this, twenty questions? I’ll tell you, but buy a man dinner first next time.

“When I was sixteen, there was some commotion. Something about stolen goods, something else about unrest in the north, and the king turned his attention to the desert. I was restless, surrounded by books and swords that had never seen serious combat, and I knew I could help.” Dirk remained at-ease, tone matter-of-fact as he spoke. But Jake saw the way he was looking at him. There was something about the level, unblinking gaze that unsettled him. Dirk only did that when he was setting up a dare. “My Bro was in charge of intelligence at the time, and it was pretty fucking trivial to get ahold of specifics he left lying about. Bands were organized, swaths of knights were sent to try to make the paths safer for travelers and to defend those who needed it against criminals with nothing better to do than shove knives into innocents and take everything they had. I decided that I couldn’t just sit on my ass in a castle, twiddling my thumbs like a coward. I left in the middle of the night to tail one of the bands, and I’ve been ridding the kingdom of scum ever since. Never looked back.”

A noble goal -- not that Jake had ever expected anything less. Yet, there wasn’t something right about it. None of that explained why Dirk was so unwilling to talk about the royals half the time, and why he’d never mentioned direct family until tonight. It also didn’t explain why the guy wouldn’t even get within sight of the city on the horizon, choosing winding mountain paths even during monsoon season over longer, safer routes that passed further to the southeast. 

This wasn’t the truth, or if it was, it wasn’t the full truth. Jake could discern that without too much trouble, not because it wasn’t believable, but because of the missing pieces. They were purposeful. For whatever reason, Dirk wasn’t willing to tell him at the moment. He knew better than to pry.

“And to think! When I was that age, I’d just started making the rounds with the crew. Is that how you met Terezi, then? Off galavanting around, mopping the floor with enemies lickety-split as a tag team?” Jake responded with a lax smile, his question punctuated with a hiss as he twisted just enough to cause his spine to crack. Thank God. He’d needed that, and when he met Dirk’s gaze again, that challenging look had been replaced with something else. Looks like Jake had passed.

“Hm. No. She’s been a pain in my ass long before I was sixteen.” Dirk drawled, running fingers through coiled hair made frizzy by the humidity. “With her, it’s all a gamble that I’d prefer not to have to deal with. Half the time she’s causing me more problems than I know how to handle, and the other half she’s solving everything and I’m left standing there like a deer, looking right at you before you put an arrow in it.” 

At this point, Jake was beginning to think that Dirk had no normal relationships with anyone. The other’s flippant tone told him that Dirk was also unlikely to elaborate further on how he’d gotten to know the viper of a woman in the first place, and he knew that he was starting to tread the line of Dirk’s tolerance. With an idle glance back at the map, Jake realized something odd. Zrilshar wasn’t the biggest kingdom around -- in fact, it had been the smallest within living memory -- but it damn sure was big enough to be difficult to find. Dirk was proof of that, in many ways. But something was bothering him. 

This question would, hopefully, not put Dirk on full shut-down mode. “My memory may be a mite lackluster so do forgive me if it needs a bit of jogging, but you got a letter from her a couple of days ago, right?” 

“That’s right. I told you about it, just some over-the-top boast about how she took down a den of thieves all on her own. I call bullshit, and if she did, they were probably either kids who barely knew how to tie their boots let alone hold a blade, or already mortally wounded when she got there,” he joked. “She wants to duel me when we meet up again, but I’d feel bad for serving her on a silver platter within five seconds.” 

Just as he’d thought. Jake thought for a moment, trying to remember any instance he could of Dirk sitting down and bothering to answer. But he found none. “Er… I’m well aware that this is a realm of limitless wonder, but I’ve not once witnessed you scrawl a response to her spiels. You have certainly never struck me as a man to keep consistent pen pals! So how on Earth does she know where we are to deliver silver-tongued vaunts?” 

“Hell if I know, Jake. Sometimes Terezi just… knows things without people telling her. Does it really matter how she goes about whatever weird divination technique she’s got?” Dirk sighed, eyes darting toward the tiny window that let in not even the dim glow of starlight. He was uncomfortable. 

Suddenly, Jake recovered a memory. 

_Desperately, fingers scrabbled at sodden sand, its individual grains giving easily with the pressure of palms and nails as Jake hauled himself, gasping, from the sea. Somehow, he’d managed to retain his glasses, though his vision was fraught with cracks in the delicate glass. He could hear nothing of his own wheeze, the coughing fit he felt deep in his chest that expelled salty spray from his airways -- could hear nothing except the infernal ringing in his ears that diminished the world around him to that of a silent picturesque landscape._

_Or, rather, it would if not for the way the roiling waves buffeted his back, forcing Jake further toward his goal of land before threatening to steal it away as the water rushed back into the sea, pulling hard against his form. Just barely, he managed to dig his boots in just enough to retain his position until he could manage to stumble forward on his hands and knees enough to get out of the way of the crashing waves mere moments before they hit again. Though his joints ached and he could feel the sting of salt on cuts that had since opened in his skin, Jake forced himself to stand, blinking water from his eyes as best he could._

_What he saw took him a few moments to fully recognize. A few yards down was a wooden rowboat -- one he recognized, with a long diagonal slash near its prow -- and a man was near it, just as soaking wet as Jake himself was. The other was in the act of leaning over, one delicate, long-fingered hand reaching out to a figure still collapsed in the sand. Without realizing he was doing it, Jake found himself moving forward, numb legs causing him to appear in the likeness of a baby deer. Yet, when he opened his mouth to call out, the pirate -- erm… ex pirate? -- heard nothing more than a slight sound muffled by the ringing in his ears._

_But the man had heard him._

_Though his hearing appeared to be fried, likely because of the horrific wailing that he’d heard on the ship mere minutes prior, Jake’s sight was just fine. Part of him, in this moment, wished it wasn’t. Suddenly, he saw the other’s face snap up, his own body flinching involuntarily at the panic and wild hatred in the other’s eyes. The other’s lips curled into a snarl as he spoke, but Jake’s brows drew into a furrow as he realized dully that he couldn’t understand what the other was saying. Blinking bleariness from his eyes as though that would fix the issue, Jake murmured out a slurred “What?”_

_Unfortunately for him, the other straightened into a more threatening stance, reaching to his belt before barking something else that Jake couldn’t quite make out. He felt dizzy -- enough to make stepping backward away from the perceived threat send him reeling, and he stumbled before righting himself yet again. Shaky hands held themselves up of their own volition, and Jake noticed idly that the dark-skinned arms he just barely recognized as his own were riddled with scrapes and cuts._

_Yet, before anything unsavory could happen, the waterlogged figure still lying in the sand reached out with a pale hand, grasping at the man’s ankle. Jake perceived the slightest flinch before divine orange eyes cast down at the red-head, whose face was just barely visible between soaked strands of hair. Somehow, he could swear that those clouded, dull eyes were staring straight at him with a focus that was unsettling. Whatever words the figure’s mouth formed had the other man hesitating; then, after a few heartbeats, he kicked at the sand in what Jake recognized as frustration before disregarding Jake and leaning back down to help the girl rise to her feet._

_“She said not to kill you. You’ll be useful to us.” Somehow, he made those words out clearly, and Jake’s reaction was incredibly delayed. It took him a moment to draw the conclusion that the voice had to be coming from somewhere very nearby, and even longer for the sinking feeling in his gut to be pushed aside enough for him to work up the courage to turn his head._

_All he could see was billowing smoke and a pair of cold, calculating red eyes._

Shuddering slightly, Jake attempted to dismiss that memory. He didn’t like to think about that day, one in which his entire life turned topsy-turvy. Still, flashes of sinking, groaning wood and hungry waves sucking down the only home he’d known for six years came to mind alongside snatches of dark hair -- of a grave dug with bare hands and a certain numbness that came only with shell-shock. It was a day that had left its mark on both Dirk and Jake, forever entwining their fates like the threads of some grand tapestry.

Whatever reason Terezi had had for commanding Dirk to not take those few steps forward, whatever reason she’d had for reigning in their demon companion, Jake was grateful for it. Perhaps it really was inappropriate to ask, or to try to understand, when she had ensured his survival that day: one so riddled with death and loss that even a single merciful act seemed divine in comparison.

Before Jake could even think to reply, or to change the subject, it was the other who broke the silence that had settled between them in the last few moments. “It’s dawn.”

Dirk was right, he realized with surprise, green eyes flitting toward the tiny window that was beginning to let in just the tiniest hint of a dawn glow. It was nearly impossible to notice the slightly-increased illumination in the room itself, which was why Jake hadn’t realized sooner. A wave of relief washed over him as he remembered just how eager he was to get out of this God-forsaken place with its humidity and heat that turned him into a salt-coated husk. Now that dawn was breaking, it would be safe enough to traverse the swamp, something essentially impossible to do in the night. 

“Ah! There she blows! Bumping our gums has been fine and all, but I believe we should endeavor to be out of this place posthaste!” As he said this, Jake quickly hopped down from the desk and rushed to locate the rest of his clothing. Though he didn’t enjoy the prospect of adding more layers that would inevitably suction to his skin, the fact that getting dressed meant they’d soon be out of this stretch in their journey was enough to sustain him. 

Tugging one of the bags out from under the bed, Jake rifled through it to find his clothing. Before long, he was slipping on his undershirt, then struggling with his pants, which seemed to be having a difficult time getting up his clammy thighs. Nearby, he could hear the sound of the chair scraping against the wooden floor and the crackle of parchment being rolled. Sleep was a distant memory, a pipe-dream at this point, and Jake felt no longing at all for the damp covers that he quickly attempted to wrestle back into place before continuing with his routine. After all, he wasn’t going to be a rude patron, even if this inn had been somewhat lackluster!

“Normally this would be the part where I’d ask if you remembered to pack everything, but it’s not like we had much room to spread out,” Dirk grumbled with distaste just a short distance away as he tugged his own bag out from under the bed. He was right. The room was cramped, and there had been no real reason to unpack even if there had been more space allotted to them. They both wanted out of here. “Soon, it’ll be open pier again and we’ll be able to secure a ship and head east.”

By that point, Jake had begun to pull on his jerkin, large fingers fumbling slightly with the fastenings as always. Before he could even come close to becoming frustrated, there were warm fingers on his, carefully but firmly moving Jake’s hands aside before much thinner, defter fingers tugged at strings and began to tie him up from bottom to top. There was something mesmerizing about watching Dirk work at such a mundane task, and by the time the leather tightened around his collarbone, Jake was reaching for the other’s sleeve with one hand, leaning in slightly. It was an invitation, a subtle tug on the sleeve as Dirk finished the last little bow, and one that did not go ignored. 

After tipping his head up, there was less than a split second in which their eyes met before Dirk’s lips were on Jake’s, and his heart was softening and melting in his chest. The other’s hand flattened against his chest, and his own was shifting from sleeve to Dirk’s cheek, smooth against his own rough palm. Their lips moved in tandem though the kiss was short-lived, and the familiar taste of the other lingered. But Jake chased Dirk as he pulled back slightly, planting a single chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, and then another as a mischievous smile snaked its way onto his face.

“No, fuck you, it’s way too hot.” The shorter man snorted as he attempted to wrench himself away, but there was more than enough amusement in Dirk’s tone to make Jake want to snag just one or two more. He was quick to lay claim to Dirk’s other flushed cheek with an exaggerated ‘Mmmmwah!’ sound, to which the other replied by shoving his hand against Jake’s face and lightly attempting to dislodge him. “Oh my god dude, you’re gonna fucking simmer me to death!”

If Dirk wasn’t enjoying their little game, he would have no problem getting Jake away from him. This was something they did: he smothered Dirk in affection when he was allowed to, and in return, Dirk pretended that he was indifferent to Jake’s kisses despite almost always being the initiator. With a chuckle, Jake finally acquiesced and backed away, watching Dirk shoot him a look as if he were preparing for Jake to tackle him down for more. Seeing Dirk flustered was a rare occurrence, but he loved the rare times he managed to spot the shifty eyes, flushed cheeks, and forced expression of neutrality that signaled it -- like this one. 

“Come on. Put your boots on already, the sooner we get to the pier, the better. I’m convinced this place will give me nightmares.” With that, Dirk was reaching for his cloak, pinning the golden broach at his neck. The cloak was old and worn, its once-vibrant purple reduced to a dull, near-gray. 

“Gulp! Then we should make out like masked bandits to save you a touch of sleep.” Jake replied easily, reaching for his boots and proceeding to lace them up one at a time. “We can afford to be a little proactive.But…. erm… What about Hal?”

“He’ll catch up,” came the simple response. Jake didn’t argue.

At long last, he was reaching for his own bag, settling it onto his shoulder just before Dirk did the same. Despite the claustrophobic, uncomfortable way fabric was already clinging to his body, Jake found himself in high spirits as he gestured toward the door. “After you, pumpkin.”

But before Dirk reached the door, he stopped in front of Jake to plant a quick peck to his lips. As much as he wanted to say something else -- as much as three words burned on his tongue like a brand as Jake smoothed a wrinkle in the other’s cloak -- he knew better. Saying what he felt would, no-doubt, ruin what little scraps of a “relationship” they had. Kisses were one thing. Commitment was another. 

Without further delay, Jake followed close at Dirk’s heels, leaving the tiny inn room behind in the form of a bittersweet memory.


End file.
